


Boats Against the Current

by GarciaVivar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, More characters to be added, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarciaVivar/pseuds/GarciaVivar
Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi led a simple life.It all changed, however, on a fateful night when he crossed path with an injured agent in a dark alleyway.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer & Warning: 
> 
> There are depictions of psychological disorders/trauma in this fiction, but due to my lack of knowledge in this field, they may not be very accurate. 
> 
> There will also be mentions of violence and torture in the later chapters of the story. I don't intend for them to be graphic, but if these topics are triggering to you, please avoid them. More detailed warnings will be presented in the notes at the beginning or related chapters.

Ushijima Wakatoshi led a simple life.

He was a man of few words, hence few friends. Without the constant distraction of socialising, he was able to go through each day following his own schedule, which might appear rigid to another person but suited him perfectly.

He would wake up in the early hours, exercise for precisely an hour, then return to his apartment to have breakfast. Afterwards, he’d check on his plants, water them, and examine if there were unhealthy leaves that required his attention. Since he worked from home, he was not in much hurry to get to anywhere, which was quite ideal, too. He made his living by translating documents for mechanic manufacturers, having been in the business long enough to build himself a stable customer base, meaning stable income. He worked for the majority of the day, since without friends or families to tend to, he had more than plenty of time on his hand. He’d take meal breaks and do more physical exercises to keep his body healthy and his mind sharp. Sometimes he’d watch the news. Occasionally, when he felt particularly in need of relaxation, he’d watch volleyball games, too. He’d usually retire to his bed around ten in the evening.

A great deal of people may find his routine extremely dull. But Ushijima did not mind. He was a simple man who led a simple life, and he was content.

He also hated any disruptions of his routine, and would feel slightly disturbed whenever there was some sort of irregular occurrence.

The first omen of a bad night was when he opened his fridge only to find that he ran out of milk, and happened to forget to get any on his last trip to the grocery store. He checked the time. It was eight in the evening, and the store would open for another hour. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing his jacket and exiting his apartment.

It was a beautiful autumn evening, and for a while Ushijima was even pleased by his oversight, which led him to wander the dimly-lit street where there were few cars and less people. The temperature sat in a comfortable range, and a lovely breeze helped clear up his head. The moon was large and bright, a perfect round shape hanging in the sapphire night sky. Along the street were trees that murmured softly in the wind, chanting to an ancient rhythm.

Ushijima was not a romantic soul, yet he was able to find poetry in the scenic view.

If he could walk to the store, make his purchase and head back home without accidents, it would have been perfect. However, fortune did not seem to be on his side on this particular night, and things spiralled out of control so fast that he barely had time to fully grasp the series of the events before it was too late, and he ended up with blood-soaked clothes and an unconscious stranger on his couch. Even worse, he did not get to buy any milk.

All of that would happen in the span of less than thirty minutes, right after Ushijima had his sentimental moment with the extraordinarily nice moon. In hindsight, the moon could have been a bad omen, too.

He was simply walking down the street, minding his own business, when a sharp sound caught his attention. Instinctively he snapped his head and started running towards the direction, only pausing for a second after his brain registered the sound.

A gunshot.

His memory of his childhood days was fogged, yet he remembered that his father used to take him up to the ranch, where they had practiced shooting. It was not a regular occurrence, but the sound of a gunshot had somehow been preserved in his head long enough for him to recognise it right away, after so many years.

A gunshot, meaning there was someone with a gun. Which was not only illegal, but quite deadly as well.

And there was probably someone who was hurt.

Ushijima did not think himself as particularly altruistic or brave, but he refused to leave a potentially injured person to bleed to death when he could be the only person who’d be able to save them.

There was only one shot, and despite his sensitivity towards his surroundings, Ushijima failed to locate the origin of the sound. He ran for a while, and when he felt that he was in the proximity of it, he tried to lay low and observe. It turned out to be a good strategy, as he soon heard two other gunshots – this time muffled – coming from a nearby ally.

So, both parties were armed. Ushijima weighed his options. Initially he thought it was an armed robbery or something of that sort, but obviously it was more dangerous than that. It could have been a cross-fire. Gang activities. He heard it on the news that there had been several incidents in the city where gang related violence was suspected, but he didn’t know it would hit so close to home. He had believed that he lived in a relatively safe neighbourhood.

Except that it did not sound like a cross-fire, either. It was too quiet. No one was yelling, and he could not hear even a footstep. When he listened in more closely, however, he heard someone moaning and hissing in pain.

It could be a life-threatening situation. Still, Ushijima found himself slowly creeping towards the injured person, body pressed against the walls, trying his best to remain in the shadow. Poking his head around the corner, he could see someone on the ground no more than ten meters away, panting and occasionally grunting, as they attempted to drag themselves up to their feet. There was something shiny in their hand, likely a gun. A dark puddle underneath their body. Blood.

Ushijima stood frozen at the spot. He debated whether he should just leave, since the injured personnel was very conscious and might be capable of calling for help if they needed any. Plus, they had a gun, and would probably not hesitate to shoot. It would be in his best interest to turn and get away before he got into any trouble.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to make his final decision.

The panting of the stranger stopped, and he went very still. Slowly, he lifted his head up and looked straight into the eyes of Ushijima before he could duck away. Although it was too dark to make out any features on their face, Ushijima felt a chill running down his spine. Those eyes were unbelievably bright. And dangerous. Like the eyes of a wolf.

The next thing he saw was the barrel pointing in his direction.

Without a second of hesitation, Ushijima raised both of his hands up and stepped into the sight of the stranger.

It was foolish. He understood that. It would probably be easier to just turn around and run for his life – it wasn’t like someone that injured could have gotten up and hunt him down.

It sure was a lot of blood.

“Please don’t shoot.” He spoke in his calmest tone, not willing to provoke the person any further, “I am here to help.”

The stranger was silent for a while, as if deciding if he could be trusted. They did not lower the gun.

“May I…?” Ushijima attempted, “I see that you are wounded. I can call the medics.”

“Don’t.” The stranger snapped. Now, he could tell that it was a man. His voice was hoarse due to the pain he must be enduring. “If you call anyone, I’ll shoot.”

Ushijima was a bit taken aback. In all honesty, he felt slightly offended. He was just trying to help, after all.

But this man could be a criminal. That would explain why he did not want him to contact any sort of authorities.

“Alright.” He nodded, “Should I leave you here to bleed out?”

He thought he heard teeth grinding, but that might just be his imagination.

“Come closer.” The man commanded, “Keep your hands up. I’ll shoot if you do anything funny.” Before Ushijima could reply, he quickly added, “I’ll also shoot if you try to leave now.”

Right. This is what being a good citizen can get you into. Ushijima let out a sigh, and did as requested. With his hands high up in the air, he cautiously stepped closer towards the man. As the distance closed, he could see his face clearer in the brightness of the moonlight. Despite being utterly dishevelled, the man was surprisingly good looking. As a matter of fact, he looked like a handsome spy who just walked out of his film.

It wasn’t like Ushijima had ever watched such films, though.

Those bright eyes were now entirely focused on his face, scrutinising him. Finally, the man lowered his gun. Ushijima barely had a second to feel relived before his eyes spotted another man lying very still on the ground not so far away. Judging by how still he was, Ushijima believed that he was also very dead.

“Oh, don’t mind that one.” Seeing his alarmed expression, the handsome spy waved his hand, “He tried to kill me first, this is self-defence. I’m the good guy here.”

Ushijima looked at him. “For someone who’s mortally injured, you seem to talk a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you are not being very helpful for someone who claimed that they are here to help.”

Ushijima tightened his jaw. “I’m not sure how to help you, as you won’t let me contact the emergency service. I have very limited experience in medicine.”

“Just get me somewhere that’s not here.” Those brown eyes flickered, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

It would have been better, or less bad, if the stranger was able to keep his words. However, when Ushijima finally managed to carry his dead weight all the way back to his apartment, taking great measures to avoid any attention, the man had long since passed out. It wasn’t his fault that he was bleeding (well, it kind of was, which was not the point), but Ushijima was still at a loss at what to do next.

If the bleeding was not stopped in time, he could still die from the wound. And Ushijima would have to find a way to explain why he had a dead body inside his apartment. Knowing himself, he probably wouldn’t come up with something that wasn’t incriminating.

It didn’t take him too long before he decided that he should at least attempt something. Although, true to his words, Ushijima was no expert in the field of medicine, he still had enough common sense to know that he could at least check the wound, give it some cleaning and wrap it up for now.

This, however, was easier said than done. Ushijima managed to fetch some water and damp a towel, but it was very challenging to fondle through the bloody mess on the man’s leg to try to locate the wound.

In his previous state of shock, Ushijima hadn’t paid any attention to the man’s clothes at all. Now that he had to look, he found that he was dressed in a very nice and expensive looking suit, which was now sadly ruined because of the sheer amount of blood that soaked it through. His loss of some sportswear really shied in comparison.

The analogy of the handsome spy popped up again. How stereotypical. Who else would have worn a suit to an armed combat?

He didn’t finish cleaning up the wound before he heard the man groaning, slowly coming back to conscious.

“Iwa-chan, I almost died.” He whined.

Ushijima frowned, still holding the wet and now bloody towel. He had no idea who “Iwa-chan” was, but he was sure that it wasn’t him.

“I’m sorry.” He apologised, “But I am not Iwa –”

The man looked slightly disappointed, judging by the way his shoulders sank. He lazily peeled open an eyelid and glanced at Ushijima and, for some sick reason, burst into laughing.

“Don’t you look awesome!” He managed to get this out in between his laughter, which was eerily sharp, almost hysterical. Ushijima felt somewhat unnerved, though it could have been just the impact of blood loss.

“What do you mean?” He cautiously asked, unsure of how to take the man’s words.

“Nothing, just that you look like you walked out of a murder scene, which, come to think of it, you did. I, uh.” He paused for a second, body tensing up as he realised that he wasn’t holding a gun, “Where did you put it?”

“Over there on the cabinet.” Ushijima nodded towards the other end of the living room. He wasn’t very fond of the weapon, and wished to keep it from himself as far as he could.

The man glanced in the direction lamentingly and leaned back into the couch, now calming down a bit. He sighed.

“I don’t like being parted from it, especially when my head doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.” The water in the basin next to them had turned completely red after just one rinse, “I think you must make haste to wrap your wound up properly, or else you may bleed out.”

The man sat up, trying not to wince at the pain that must have shot up from his wound. He gave his leg a quick check.

“I’m lucky. He didn’t hit anything vital, especially the bones. That could’ve put me out of action for good.” He was still chattering nonsense for some reason, and Ushijima was getting increasingly on edge. He didn’t get into all the trouble for him to die on his couch.

The man seemed to pick up on his agitation. He let out another dry laughter, but the humour did not reach his eyes.

“Well?” He said, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get me some bandage that I can use then, instead of standing here and staring me like a big oaf?”

Ushijima was shocked by how ungrateful and rude the man is. He tried to be understanding. This person was wounded, and that would surely put someone in a foul mood. But as he went to his bedroom to find his first-aids kit, he couldn’t help but thought that it was probably just that the man didn’t consider him worth of being nice to.

When he returned with the supplies, the man was fidgeting with a miniature transmitter that seemed to materialise out of nowhere. His body language was rigid, with his lips pressing into a straight line and the tips of his fingers white around the device.

“Damn, pick it up, will’ya?”

Ushijima felt his eyebrows arching up in awe. Of course, what he had witnessed tonight strongly hinted that the man was associated with some type of agent work, but he had thought that such work required more secrecy. It made him uneasy, how this person was letting things slip right in front of his eyes.

Would he be neutralised for secret-keeping’s sake? He would prefer not.

It was when the man turned to look at him that Ushijima realised that he had vocalised his thoughts. The man curled up his lips, reaching out to grab the kit from his hands.

“Well, I trust that you’d be good and not go around telling everyone. Am I wrong?”

“No. But you don’t know that.” Ushijima instantly regretted his words. It was unlike him to make such unnecessary comments, especially when it could get him into trouble. He did not understand where the urge of nagging this stranger came from – it had to be seeing him in a very vulnerable state earlier that instilled some sort of protective instinct in him for this man.

It felt strange and dangerous, and he could not wait for him to leave and never return to his life.

Except – Ushijima silently observed him putting the antiseptics and bandaged over his wound – he didn’t really want that.

Hearing his reply, the man threw his head back to laugh. He was someone who laughed a lot, thought Ushijima, despite the grim nature of his occupation. They were nice laughs, too, beautiful and smooth like a singing bird, filling up the empty apartment just fine.

“Darling, I can tell what kind of people you are in a snap of my fingers, you know? Just look around your place. Nothing here screams ‘I know a whole bunch of people whom I trust enough to tell that I’m hiding a spy in my home’. Your social life must be a disaster, to say the least.”

“Is that supposed to offend me?”

Ignoring his comment, the man’s face turned slightly more serious as he continued, “But no, you don’t need to worry. You can choose to believe me or not, but I actually work for an international special agent organisation that is currently cooperating with your government on a mission. We don’t – ah, neutralise civilians.”

“I am relieved.”

“Can’t tell, you still sound like a rock.” The man hummed, as he tied a knot with the bandages, “Finished. What’s your name?”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He replied, “And you?”

“Smooth, not telling you. But you can call me Oikawa.”

It sounded familiar. Ushijima pondered, “…The fish?”

“The – Gee, you are as terrible as Iwa-chan.”

“Who is that? You have mentioned him before.” Ushijima probed. He did not expect a straightforward answer, but he got one.

“My partner in crime.” Oikawa – or whatever his name was replied, “Who is not picking up my transmission signal. I’m a bit worried about him.”

“If he is as good as you, you needn’t worry.”

Ushijima almost did not catch on what he said until he realised that Oikawa was staring at him. His eyes narrowed, “You don’t know me, do you?”

“I don’t.” Ushijima blinked, “But if you are working for an international special agent organisation with the government, I would assume that you are good.”

This seemed to be an acceptable answer, because Oikawa did not ask any more questions. They fell into a relatively comfortable silence, and at some point, Oikawa fell asleep on his couch. Before retiring to his bedroom, Ushijima brought out a blanket to tuck him in.

Sinking into his mattress in the dark, Ushijima could almost capture the lingering smell of gun powder and blood. The whole situation was so surreal that he wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up the next morning to find that it was all but a dream – except that he was not one who dreamt. Never had a dream paid him visit during him sleep, even when he was a child. Which, in hindsight, seemed a little bit sad. Alas, even if Ushijima were a dreamer, it was impossible for him to have dreamt up a spy with mischievous eyes, who was too smart and arrogant for his own good.

The last conscious thought he had on this fateful night was that his fridge was still pathetically in lack of one bottle of milk. It turned out that, after all, no one could be spared of the absurdity of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Oikawa's name (in case you haven't heard of it already):  
> The pale chub, (Zacco platypus), also known as pale bleak or fresh-water sprat...Zacco platypus Is called Oikawa オイカワ（追河、Opsariichthys platypus）in Japan. (From Wikipedia)
> 
> -
> 
> This is my attempt to write a longer story. I am not very good at keeping track of my plot and pace, though, so please bear with me. There's also no beta so all grammatic errors are mine. 
> 
> Originally I had intended to finish writing the entire story before publishing it (it won't be very long), but solitude can only get you so far and I'm in need of some love ;) So please leave some comments if you like it, I appreciate them very much! (No pressure though, I just love to see my fellow UshiOi shippers because our boys are so adorable)
> 
> Sorry for the ramblings. I hope you'll enjoy this story!


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief description of violence. Psychological conditions.

Ushijima Wakatoshi thought that he must have had a vivid, bizarre dream. Surely it was not possible that he did come across the scene of a spy film. That would have been very ridiculous. He was a simple man living a simple life, and nothing that out of the ordinary would ever happen to someone like him.

That was, until he walked into his living room to find a slumbering figure curled up tightly on his couch, pressing against the backrest so as not to roll and fall down from the narrow surface.

It seemed rather uncomfortable, Ushijima thought as his eyebrows tied into a knot. It was inconsiderate of him to leave his guest sleeping on a couch. However, he only had one bedroom with one bed in it, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to get him settled.

Then again, he also shouldn’t be having someone sleeping over in his apartment to begin with. There simply had never been anyone. No relatives, no friends. He was a man who was truly alone in this world, until last night, when this stranger bumped into his life in the most fascinating way.

Oikawa. That was what he called himself. He was a spy, or agent, working for an organisation in cooperation with the government.

If that was the case, though –

He did not get to finish his thoughts. As if sensing his presence, Oikawa shot straight up from the furniture, before Ushijima had a chance to stop him. He yelled in pain as the abrupt movement strained the wound on his leg. Ushijima was quick to move to his side.

“It’s fine. You are in a safe place.”

Oikawa sat there and looked straight at him. He wasn’t even blinking, and there was not a single trace to indicate that he was still sleeping barely seconds ago other than the messy hair. He was obviously very well trained, but knowing that did not make the scenario less disturbing. Ushijima had to try really hard to not evade the sharp gaze.

“Do you remember the events of yesterday?” He talked, hoping that his voice could help the agent calm down, “You were shot and I brought you back here. This is my apartment. You fell asleep on the couch before I had a chance to offer you my bed. What would you prefer for breakfast?”

Oikawa blinked. The tension in the air quivered and gave way.

“Well.” He scowled at him, “I’ll have you know that I hurt my leg, not my head, so my memory works just fine, thank you very much. Get me fried eggs and sweetened coffee and something else. Milk bread would have been great, but I don’t think you have any.”

“I can get some when I do grocery shopping today.” Ushijima nodded, pointedly ignoring the blatant rudeness of the man, “But for breakfast, I am afraid I only have regular toast slices.”

“That will do for now.” Oikawa said as he lied back down, “Let me know when food is ready. I haven’t had enough sleep yet. Why are you even awake at this unholy hour, anyway?”

“This is a healthy time to get up to exercise.” Ushijima felt it necessary to defend his timetable. Oikawa waved a hand dismissively, and Ushijima took it as the hint to leave him alone. He went out for his running as usual, giving Oikawa an abundant amount of time to catch up on his sleep.

The idea of having a secret agent inside his home was still quite unsettling, but there wasn’t much he could do except for trying to overlook that and keep at his own pace.

When he got back from the running, Oikawa was already up, dedicatedly working on his transmitter again.

“Good, you are back.” He spared him only one glance as he entered, “I thought I’d starve to death.”

In that one glance, he had failed to notice the bag of milk bread that was held in Ushijima’s hands, which he went out of his way to buy.

Ushijima laid his purchase down on the counter, eyes transfixed on it. Its existence suddenly bothered him more than it should. The milk bread, his brain alerted, was something that was out of place, just like the agent sitting on his couch with an injured leg. Nausea hit him like a train, and Oikawa’s voice began to sound distorted, off-tune, as if it was played in slow motion.

Then, without a warning, everything flooded back at once. The sound of a gunshot. The dark alleyway. The limp, dead body. Blood, thick and fresh, oozing out of the open, angry wound. Muscle, flesh, torn by a bullet. A man so pale and unconscious, he thought he surely had died – the same man, hours later, talking to him, making snarly comments.

_The Doctor was one of the constancies in Ushijima Wakatoshi’s simple life. She was also the one who informed him, in her cool and collected voice, that he should consider a lifestyle with minimal disruptions. His Condition did not mix well with overstimulation of any sort, be it physical, emotional or mental._

_She was the only one there to greet him after his Beak Down. The Doctor deemed it extremely traumatic, and should he suffer another one of those, she did not believe that her help would be enough to restore his stability._

Compartmentalisation could only carry him that far, with the unyielding pressure being exerted on his nerves by the enigmatic and unreasonable presence of a certain Oikawa.

He did not know what expression he was wearing when he turned around, but it must have not been a good one. He could see it on the other man’s stunned face – his agape mouth, his widened eyes.

“Listen.” Good, the voice came out steadier than he anticipated, “I understand that you are undergoing a stressful situation, but if you were to stay here, I would have to ask you not to use me as your punchbag. We barely know each other, and I have been nothing but helpful towards you. The least I could ask for is a little bit of respect.”

Silence, except for the sound of their breaths mingling together in the cramped apartment room. The astonishment in Oikawa’s eyes slowly manifested into something else, something unreadable. His sight shifted aside, his head bowed down, and Oikawa muttered an apology that was almost inaudible.

“Sorry.”

Ushijima felt his chest tightened. He was almost compelled to explain himself, to talk to Oikawa about his Conditions and how overwhelmed he had been since the night before, even if he hadn’t shown it. But his throat was too dry, and try as he might, it was impossible to make a sound.

Resigned to his fate, Ushijima turned around to go to the kitchen. He would make breakfast, and hopefully cooking could help wind him down.

He laid out the dishes on the table. On the couch, Oikawa stirred to the smell of buttered bread and fried eggs and bacon. Freshly brewed coffee, as well.

Ushijima stared at his back, half expecting him to still be brooding and refuse to get up to eat. He opened his mouth to tell him not to let the food go cold, but to his surprise, Oikawa slowly propped himself up and edged towards the tea table before he spoke.

“Thank you.”

The voice was off – too low and tired, devoid of the cheeriness that had always been there since their first encounter. It was disheartening in its own way. When Ushijima examined his face closely, he was horrified to find a hint of redness around the agent’s eyes.

His throat closed up, and the pang in his chest became too great to be ignored.

“I’m sorry.” Before he could even comprehend the situation, Ushijima blurted out. He knew deep down that he did not say anything wrong, as it was unfair for Oikawa to lash out on him for no reason, but at the same time he kicked himself for not letting him. He sat there, overwhelmed again by the ache, the need to comfort the man in front of him, and the sheer absence of rationality of the situation, breakfast completely forgotten. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” He heard himself repeating.

How could Oikawa, someone he just met the night before, have such impact on him? None of this made sense. It must be some cruel mental trick played by the secret agent that made him wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from his pretty face, to sit himself on the couch next to him, wrap him in his arms until he’d shed no more tears.

Oikawa raised those misty eyes to look at him, but almost immediately casted them back downwards.

“You scolded me.” His voice was so fragile, as if he’d break into a million pieces at the slightest blow, “But you don’t need to apologise. You were right. You have been so kind to me and didn’t deserve any of that. You were right about me being stressed, too. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Ushijima counted four hiccups in between those sentences. They were adorable to the extent that his head suddenly felt weightless, and the entire confrontation lost its gravity. Before realising it, he reached across the table, covering Oikawa’s hand with his own. This seemed to startle the man, as he raised his head again to meet Ushijima’s gaze – though he did not attempt to shake him off.

Ushijima put on his best (or the least bad) smile. Regrettably unskilful when it came to the art of speech, he resorted to reusing his own words from the morning.

“It is okay. You are safe.”

Things mellowed down over the course of breakfast as Oikawa idly chewed on the food that was cooked for him. The majority of the time he seemed to be withdrawn inwards, caught up in his personal maze of thoughts. When their eyes met, however, he would smile a little, tender and shy like a rose petal.

Ushijima drank him in as he sipped his coffee. The beverage tasted less bitter than it had always been.

“Oikawa,” When it got comfortable enough, Ushijima took the opportunity to ask the burning question, “You said you are working with the government. So why did you ask me not to call the authority?”

Oikawa smirked.

“Back to business, are we? Well, seeing that I am taking advantage of your hospitality, I probably owe you some explanation.” Before Ushijima could state that in fact, he did not really owe him anything, the agent carried on, “Our mission wasn’t a success. We were ambushed because they were prepared, so there must have been a leakage. There is a mole, and I don’t know who to trust.”

“But my appearance was not too convenient?” He really should stop digging his own grave.

The agent tilted his head to the side as he observed him, intrigued. “Now I’m starting to believe that there’s more to you than what meets the eyes, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Ushijima paused at the nickname. It had a familiar ring to it that made his hair stand. He couldn’t pinpoint where the uneasiness came from, though it could have been related to some unpleasant childhood memories.

“Please don’t call me that.”

Oikawa huffed, “Your name is such a mouthful.”

“Should I apologise for that?”

“Was this a genuine question, or are you sassing me?” Oikawa’s eyes narrowed.

Ushijima shrugged. “A bit of both, I think.”

“Very interesting, Ushi-chan.”

Ushi-chan was even worse than the previous one, but it did not bring the same uneasy feeling. Ushijima thought he should settle for that, for who knew what other monstrosity could Oikawa come up with if he asked for a change. The man chose to use the name of a fish as his own alias, for one.

The rest of the day was uneventful, comparing to the incident in the morning. Ushijima excused himself to the study after they finished having breakfast, and Oikawa was fine with being left alone for the duration of that day, provided that Ushijima offered him some sort of entertainment.

He accepted the books, though not before playfully mocking his choice of literature. Albeit his witty remarks, the sharpened, hurting edge in his attitude had all but gone since their altercation, and Ushijima welcomed this change.

They chatted a bit more throughout the day, during lunch, dinner and the other slots of free time in Ushijima’s schedule. Oikawa seemed to find it funny that he had a schedule, as the agent himself obviously did not have any due to the nature of his job.

He learnt that after the initial wave of panic, Oikawa was no longer overly worried about his partner, the man that bore the name “Iwa-chan”. He also put away the transmitter, probably realising that there was a good reason why the other man was not picking up his signal. He was laying low, for they did not know if the communicative channel was still trustworthy. This realisation no doubt contributed to the ease of his nerves, Oikawa explained, and apologised for another time.

Ushijima didn’t want him to apologise anymore. He was, again, tempted to explain his Condition, but gave up on the idea because their acquaintanceship was still too new, and it didn’t feel right to burden Oikawa with his own baggage.

So, he simply told him that his apologise was accepted, and they should move on from it already.

Surprisingly, Oikawa did not turn out to be a major disruption of his routine at all. The man was very independent, insisting on moving around the apartment by himself even from the very first day of his recovery. It pained Ushijima to look at him hopping around with his good leg, dragging the injured one behind, but Oikawa refused to let him help, stating that he did not wish to interrupt his _schedules_.

He also turned down Ushijima’s offer of the bedroom, quoting safety and convenience as his reasons. He did, however, ask to have his gun back, which was understandable.

“If anyone breaks down that door, Ushi-chan, I will take them down.” He smiled a sweet smile, joyfully cocking his gun at the apartment entrance.

“Does that mean that we could be in danger?” Ushijima didn’t like the sound of it.

Oikawa laughed as if it was a joke, though he couldn’t really tell, “Don’t worry your pretty head, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sometimes, Ushijima could be certain that Oikawa was flirting with him. He wasn’t sure, though, if it was the agent being genuinely interested or if it was just his personality. Either way, it was probably better to not get involved, even if he knew he was failing hard, being drawn to the most mysterious, beautiful and warm person he had ever come across in his life, like a moth being drawn to the flame.

An old metaphor, a good one nonetheless.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was good at settling into routines, and before he realised it, Oikawa had already incorporated himself in there. He’d still wake up, exercise and work, but now he was also having meals with the agent every day and enjoying his company in general. It made him question his decision to not keep a friend in his life, but then again, no one else had been Oikawa.

Almost a week went by with no disturbance before the inevitable happened. Ushijima was just about to take their dishes to the kitchen after lunch when he heard three knocks on his door.

They exchanged a nervous glance. Oikawa reached under his pillow to retrieve his gun, as Ushijima cautiously called out,

“Who is it?”

There was a moment of silence. When the person outside replied, though, the agent’s eyes suddenly turned unbearably bright.

“If Trashykawa is here, tell him to come open the door.”

“Iwa.” Oikawa’s breath was shallow and quick, “It’s Iwa-chan.”

“Iwa-chan!” He sounded so excited that Ushijima believed he would have been bouncing on his toes if his leg wasn’t injured, “Sorry I can’t come to the door, but I will send Ushi-chan over. Please don’t shoot him, okay?”

Ushijima arched his eyebrow, as if asking, should I be worried?

Oikawa winked. Absolutely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who said "I'm going to beta once more before I publish it" and went rewriting 1/5 of the chapter?
> 
> Hint: It's me.


	3. 3

Ushijima was promptly ignored by his new guest, who pushed his way impatiently inside even before the door was fully opened. His presence loomed over the couch, making Oikawa shrink into his blanket. The man had a set of shoulders tense as a volcano.

“Hi-hi, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa stuttered.

“Out with it.” A demanding tone. Ushijima wondered if he should step in, because the newcomer looked like he was capable of violence. He would not allow anyone to be violent towards Oikawa under his watch.

“Ju-just a bullet. Nothing major.” The injured agent sounded like a timid child interrogated by his strict parent, “It didn’t hit anything important, Iwa-chan. You know I’d be a crying mess now if that was the case, don’t you?”

The man didn’t say anything. He reached out to yank the blanket off of his partner, his movement fierce enough to make Oikawa wince. Ushijima slowly approached the pair, preparing to intervene if necessary.

The man exhaled.

“I’m damn glad that you are still alive.” He raised his hand, only to give Oikawa’s head a ruffle. The agent yelped in protest, “Iwa-chan! No messing with my hair!”

It fell on deaf ears. The legendary partner of Oikawa turned around to face Ushijima, extending a hand out, “Excuse my manner. Iwaizumi Hajime, nice to meet you and thank you for your help.”

Ushijima understood that he should be returning the friendly gesture, though he was too startled to do so. He could only stare.

“Is that,” He choked out, “Your real name?”

Iwaizumi seemed confused for a second. When realisation dawned upon him, however, he cackled.

“Is that – Jesus, what did Oikawa tell you? We don’t use alias! Did he come up with some sort of stupid alien nickname again?”

“Alien names are not stupid!” Oikawa shouted.

Ushijima shifted his astounded gaze towards him, “So your real name is Oikawa?”

“I never said it wasn’t!”

“But the fish.” Ushijima looked very lost, Oikawa groaned, and Iwaizumi doubled down laughing. When he finally managed to regain his composure, he draped his arm over Ushijima’s shoulders.

“Oh man, that was good.” He panted, “I think I’m starting to like you.”

Ushijima bit his lips. He wasn’t sure if he could say the same about Iwaizumi, because in all honesty, he was afraid that he could not develop an amicable feeling towards the agent if he was here to take Oikawa away.

Which, eventually, would be unavoidable. Ushijima tried not to think too much about it.

He offered the pair some privacy they needed to exchange the sensitive information by retreating into his study. The doors in his apartment were not entirely sound-proofed, so he could still hear the muffled conversation between the two. It was difficult not to get distracted, and when it was too much, Ushijima decided to head out to his balcony and stay there for a while with his plants.

Oikawa appreciated his plants. He didn’t come to the balcony often, since firstly, it was a bit of a walk from the living room and secondly, the only way to get here was through Ushijima’s study. But the morning before Ushijima had invited him over after breakfast, and Oikawa was enchanted by the beauty of his little forest.

“One could say that you have a green thumb.” He said as he casually grabbed Ushijima’s left hand, tracing the lines and rubbing the fingers, “I wonder what else you could do with such flexible hands.”

“Uh,” Ushijima was blissfully oblivious, “Typing, mostly.”

That earned him a frustrated look, which he did not understand. The majority of Oikawa’s behaviours were confusing to him, but he still liked them. Capricious, spontaneous, unpredictable. He used to believe that he would distaste such traits, but the only feeling he had for Oikawa was fondness. It was just as irrational as everything about the man was, and Ushijima liked it that way.

He gently caressed the leaves of a pot of chlorophytum. It would be very lonely to watch his agent go.

“Mattsun was the one who intercepted your signals.” Iwaizumi said. He had helped himself to a cup of tea from Ushijima’s kitchen with Oikawa’s directions, “You should be more careful. If it wasn’t for him, anyone could have found you the way we did.”

Oikawa sighed.

“I know. I have realised that it was a mistake the next morning. It’s just that I was so worried about you, and the blood loss did not help to level my head.”

“Yeah, you are air-headed enough even without a lack of oxygen supply to your brain.” Iwaizumi sassed, though his eyes drifted worryingly towards the bandages around Oikawa’s calf, “You sure you don’t need to get this checked out before it heals completely?”

“I got the bullet out. It should be fine.” Oikawa showcased a smile, “Plus, we don’t really know who to trust now. It’s safer if I stayed here before I regain my full mobility, don’t you think?”

Iwaizumi gave him a pointed look. “That’s the real reason?”

“You know it’s not.”

“I wish I could knock some sense into your thick skull, but Oikawa, you are a hopeless case.” Iwaizumi should be angry, he really should. Hell, he should be furious. But he couldn’t, seeing starlight returning to the bottom of his friend’s eyes for the first time since all those months ago, “Damn, you are frustrating. This is dangerous. For you and him both.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“All sections have gone through investigations.” Iwaizumi stated matter-of-factly, “As we’d expect, no suspects. The mole had to be from the government, could be some high-level officials making deals under the table with our target for some extra cash. ‘Stay under the radar’, from Boss, relayed by Mattsun.”

“So, the second worst scenario. Good to hear.” Oikawa hummed. The worst would have been to discover a mole within the Headquarter, because not only was that more dangerous, it would break many hearts as well.

The teams were like families. Headquarter was a tribe. Each and every loss felt like a hard blow, leaving you desperately gasping for air.

The reason for his terrible mood the first morning he was here. In his injury induced mini-coma, he heard someone telling him that they had found the mole in Seijoh, and Iwaizumi was killed because of the information leakage. He was frantic in his dream, demanding to know who exactly could that be – because it was simply impossible – he, the Number One active agent of Seijoh, knew all of his guys by heart, and none of them could have done such a thing. None of them could have sold Iwaizumi and him out like that. There must have been a misunderstanding, a mistake.

He woke up in the middle of the night, trembling like an autumn leaf.

Now, since they had confirmed that the mole was within the government – well, he couldn’t say that he was relieved, because they were still very much in danger. But at least there would be no emotional distress, and the rest he had no trouble handling.

Iwaizumi and him spent the following hours discussing their options and plans. Oikawa was always grateful that he had Iwa-chan by his side, because the two of them shared such unwavering faith in each other and never failed to synchronise.

“Giving up had never been an option.”

“We are not aborting the mission.”

With that spirit, Oikawa had no doubt that they could get far enough to obtain at least something.

Iwaizumi stayed for dinner.

For an agent, the man had a surprisingly candour and friendly demeanour, and despite everything, Ushijima found it difficult to dislike him. It was also clear that he was very close to Oikawa, which was not news, really, judging by how often his name was mentioned in the past few days. Moreover, the agent was able to bring out a side of Oikawa that Ushijima did not know existed.

Unguarded. Trusting. Open.

It was as if Iwaizumi knew all of the answers to Oikawa’s riddles and all the paths through his labyrinth.

But Ushijima felt no jealousy. If anything, he was only happy that Oikawa had such a person by his side, because one like him should never know what it felt like to be alone in this world.

Besides, for reasons he could not tell, seeing the two friends together gave him a fuzzy feeling inside, a feeling akin to watching woods burning leisurely in the old fireplace in his childhood home. He almost wished to use the word “nostalgia”, which was strange considering that he had not had such a friendship in his life. Never had this bothered him before, but it did now, and Ushijima was uncertain of how to deal with the sudden sense of lacking and absence within himself.

He decided to ignore it and turned his attention back onto the two agents. Although he did not harbour any ill will towards Iwaizumi, Ushijima found that neither did he trust the agent like Oikawa obviously did. Ushijima Wakatoshi might be the last person to rely on his instinct, but something about this man simply didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t a feeling of danger, or threats; rather, it was about the obscurity. As frank as he seemed to be, Ushijima could not shake off the sense that Iwaizumi was hiding something.

Surely that was to be expected from an agent. What made it so intriguing, though, was that judging by how closely the man watched him, he would almost say that the hidden something concerned himself in some way. 

That would be ridiculous. The only reason why Iwaizumi Hajime was here, sitting at his dinner table, was because Ushijima happened to run into his injured partner a few nights ago. There was no way that they had crossed path before.

Sometimes Ushijima felt frustrated with his Conditions. It was because of them that he had trouble accessing certain parts of his memories.

_“Self-defence mechanism.” The Doctor said, “Your brain was overstimulated, and now it only allows you to access the neutral zone. As you recover, you may find that not only are you capable of experiencing small bursts of emotions, old memories will present themselves, too. Be careful, though, and don’t push yourself too far. Don’t search for them. Let them come to you.”_

He shouldn’t be thinking too hard. It was unlikely that something about his life could be worthy of the interest of a special agent, even before his Break Down occurred. Everything about him was simple.

Another lingered glance. Observing, searching for a seam that Ushijima knew was not there.

If Oikawa noticed anything, he didn’t let it show.

“Oh, no, no. We can’t let our host cook the dinner _and_ do the dishes, can we?”

Iwaizumi grunted. Before Ushijima could interject and say that no, he was fine with that, the agent stood up and started to collect their bowls.

The triumphant smile on Oikawa’s face was short-lived, as his partner declared that when he got back on his feet, he would be responsible for a month’s worth of dishes back _home_.

“Iwa-chan is mean.” The agent pouted, tugging at Ushijima’s shirt, “He’s always mean to me. I prefer you, Ushi-chan.”

Ushijima’s eyes softened as he felt the other man moving over and snuggling against him. It was so cosy and nice that for a moment, he wished that he didn’t have to ruin it with his question.

“Oikawa,” His voice was low, “Are you leaving?”

Instead of giving an answer, Oikawa smiled. It was achingly sweet.

“Will I be missed?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

He was leaning close now, their foreheads almost touching. Ushijima was physically unable to avert his gaze, captivated in the pair of clear, brown eyes. Galaxies live in those eyes.

“More than –” His voice was caught. More than Oikawa would believe, more than he knew how to say, more than what they had had. It wasn’t even a proper runaway romance yet. The city of Rome awaited, but the princess was already returning to her palace.

_(He could not recall when he had watched them, but his brain remembered the plots of certain Hollywood classics.)_

“More than anything.” Oikawa finished it for him, chastely planting a kiss on his cheek.

“But,” Before Ushijima could react, he drew himself away, leaning back on his pillow, “No need to worry now! I just told Iwa-chan that I’m staying here until I can walk again. You see, the safehouses are probably not all that safe now. Your place, on the other hand, is a hideout that no one could even think of. Smart, right?”

Oh.

For a while, there was nothing he could do other than staring into the agent’s mischievous face, completely in awe. Ushijima never thought that it would be possible to feel like this – gravity zero, followed immediately by plunging downwards helplessly into something that people called love.

Such descriptions could be found in most, if not all, romantic novels. On occasions he had read them without knowing why, but now he believed that he did so solely for the purpose of having words to match up with how he felt at precisely this moment.

Love was not something to be taken lightly, and if his understanding on the subject was not flawed, he’d say for certain that it was irresponsible to claim to have that for someone that he barely knew. Nevertheless, love was the only way he could describe what he felt towards Oikawa, who was smiling smugly now for succeeding in creating a ripple in his placid heart.

“So, I will entrust him in your care during his recovery.” Iwaizumi said, giving Ushijima’s hand a shake.

“It is my pleasure.”

The man barked out a laughter, “You surely are an interesting character if you find Oikawa’s presence pleasurable. By the way, our organisation will offer you some compensation for the trouble you’d gone through. It should appear in your bank account in a few days, consider it as our way of saying thank you.”

Ushijima frowned.

“I know, I know,” Iwaizumi cut him off before he could even open his mouth, “You are not doing it for the money. But really, we don’t know how to express our gratitude otherwise. Oikawa there is a huge pain in the ass, but he is also an important asset…”

“Iwa-chan!”

“…And a very loved friend.” Iwaizumi concluded, his tone turning slightly formal at the end, “Please watch out for him in our stead, Ushijima-kun.”

“That will not be a problem at all.”

“Then I’ll bid my farewell.” The black-haired agent inclined his head, “Take care. If there is anything that you need help with, ask Oikawa to contact us.”

“He will contact you as he sees fit.”

The fact that Iwaizumi found humour in his statement was perplexing. As the man laid his hand on the door handle, he suddenly turned around, as if he’d just remembered something.

“Uh, Ushijima. I don’t quite know the way around this place. Would you care to show me out?”

On the couch, Oikawa suddenly went stiff. 

A lot of people may mistake being reserved as being passive, though the two were not quite the same thing. Ushijima Wakatoshi was the former, and at times may appear to be the latter, but when the situation was deemed necessary, he would not hesitate to be assertive.

The two of them wandered down the cobblestone path through the mini central park of the neighbourhood. It was in the late hours of the night. Darkness engulfed their surroundings like a thick layer of half-dried ink, impenetrable to the light of a pale moon, veiled by clouds floating by. Everything was quiet, saved for the sharp dog barks coming from afar, echoing around like a lonely ghost, a portent of an upcoming storm.

The twinkling firelight illuminated Iwaizumi’s face as he took in a long drag of the cigarette. He had offered one to Ushijima, which was politely declined.

“You sure you don’t want one?” A pointed glance, “Might need it.”

“I’ve never smoked.” Ushijima replied.

The agent’s lips twitched, “Really?”

“I am an honest person.” He turned his head to face the other man, his eyes fixed and intense, “Though I cannot say the same about you, Iwaizumi-kun.”

Another puff. Iwaizumi seemed unmoved, “Pray tell.”

“I thought you had something to say to me.”

A figure cladded in long coat and woollen scarf walked pass them hurriedly, with Iwaizumi’s eagle sharp eyes fixated on their back out of habit. Nothing happened. Just a tired businessman, heading home after a long day of boring work at the desk.

“I do have something.” The agent dusted his cigarette, “But you probably won’t like it.”

“As long as it’s not a shot in the chest, I’ll manage.”

“Dry humour. Nice one.” Iwaizumi commented. “A word of advice, actually.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t.”

Ushijima squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking in a long inhale of chilly evening air. That was it. Spending an entire day by the side of his partner was enough for Iwaizumi to notice even the smallest change in him, and he had not been naïve enough to think that his feelings went undetected.

“I’m guessing that it is because I am a civilian.”

Iwaizumi coughed, clearing his throat.

“I could give you millions of reasons why it is unwise to date an active field agent, but none of them would have been sincere, despite being factual.” A drag, “To be frank, it is not you who I am concerned about.”

“That would not be surprising.”

“I don’t know how you did it, but Oikawa had let his guard down low enough in front of you to let you see his true colour.” There was tenderness in the agent’s voice now, which had been hidden under his spiky façade, “Fierce as a tiger, sweet as a rosebud. He may be too proud to ever show it, but it is annoying how easy he can get hurt. If it’s physical, he won’t even bat an eye; if it’s not, though…”

Ushijima’s nails dug into his palm.

“He’d bleed himself dry.”

“So,” His throat was tight and his breath laboured, “It has happened before.”

“Yes, oh, yes.” A wary smile emerged on the agent’s face, “Listen here. For me, there is only one reason why someone like you should not be dating Oikawa.”

“It did not end well the last time. As his partner and best friend, I refuse to see him going through that ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments <3  
> It took me several agonising days to get the stuff out because of writer's block ;) I hope you would like it. There's an interesting turn of events.
> 
> (The next chapter is going to be an emotional rollercoaster.)


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a brief scene of smut.

Upon returning to the apartment, Ushijima found Oikawa sitting up straight on the couch. The agent shot him a nervous glance as he came in through the front door.

Without a word, Ushijima took off his coat, hung it up on the rack, and strode across the room.

He didn’t even give Oikawa a chance to ask what had happened before pulling him into a strong embrace, burying his head in the crook of the agent’s neck. He smelled very much like the soap bar Ushijima liked to buy. Considering that he was also wearing one of his old shirts, Oikawa was effortlessly blending into this place.

It was almost like this was his home, too.

Hands climbed their ways up the larger man’s back, slowly massaging his tense muscles, “Hey, are you okay? What did Iwa-chan say to you?”

Ushijima shut his eyes, indulging in the familiar scent.

“It’s really late now. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

Oikawa hummed, still drawing small circles with his fingers, “Okay, tomorrow then. As much as I hate sleeping on unsolved problems, it is very late indeed, and today has been a long day.”

“Thank you.” Despite this, Ushijima showed no signs of letting go. For a while both of them simply sat there, hugging onto each other. The warmth radiating from the agent’s body felt simultaneously reassuring and surreal.

A week ago, they were merely strangers. A week ago, Ushijima’s apartment was very empty and cold, even if he wasn’t aware of that then. Now, with Oikawa’s presence, even the concrete walls seemed to come to life – as sappy as it may sound.

Iwaizumi’s warning came too late. Ushijima had already fallen head over heels for the adorable human in his arms, and he didn’t believe he could ever stop feeling this way – the way butterflies danced in his stomach, the way his heart contracted and swelled.

They stood in solemn silence. Iwaizumi’s cigarette was burning to its end. He held it out, watching as the wind sent a few sparks flying, fading into the smothering darkness.

“I will never,” Ushijima heard the sound of blood rushing in his ears, “Do that to him.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were as cold as the night.

“You think the last one did it on purpose?” His voice was a little huskier due to the smoke, “Trust me, Oikawa has no problem dealing with a breakup. He’s just not good at having people taken away from him.”

Ushijima swallowed. “They died?”

“Well, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” Iwaizumi shrugged, extinguishing the smoke before disposing of it, “Just remember that I’m not giving you my blessing, not when you are doomed to fail.”

“How would you know that?” Ushijima might have a mild temper, but being dismissed with no good reason was one way to irritate him.

“Very well. Let me ask you this.” The agent swung around, facing him head on, “What is his name, lovebird? You are so smitten with him, so what is his full name?”

Ushijima stood there speechless, realising that he, in fact, did not have an answer. Before that day, he had even thought that Oikawa was a fake name.

Iwaizumi gave a knowing laugh.

“Go and ask him.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Ask him what his name is. Ask him about his past. I can’t trust you with his heart when you know absolutely nothing about my partner, except for his pretty face. Only make your decisions after knowing your basics. Got that?”

With that, the agent turned and walked away without waiting for a reply, and Ushijima made no attempt to follow him. He stood there, ruminating over their exchange.

Everything about Oikawa was intriguing, and that included his partner. Because if Iwaizumi was truly wishing him good luck as he believed, he had the strangest way of doing it.

“Will it be fine if I ask you a question?”

Oikawa grudgingly shifted under his blanket, so that he was able to look at Ushijima, who was standing in the hallway in his pyjamas like a lost kid.

“You could have asked before we both retire to bed, you know.” He muttered.

Ushijima was biting his lips again, something he seemed to do when he’d get nervous about something, as Oikawa observed. “Spill the beans. I’m sleepy.” He yawned as he spoke, proving his point.

“What is your name?”

Oikawa blinked, now a bit more awake.

“What?”

“Oikawa…?”

The agent groaned, throwing his arm over his forehead, “This is Iwa-chan’s doing, right? Don’t even try covering up for him. I know it.”

“Yes.” Ushijima kept standing there, waiting for an answer, “He told me to ask.”

Oikawa was silent for so long that Ushijima almost lost hope, thinking that he wouldn’t be getting an answer tonight. It was alright, though, because he would try again tomorrow. He would keep trying until he got it, because at this point, nothing could convince him to give this up.

That was when he heard the smallest of a sound.

“…Toru.”

“Toru.” He was eager to taste the name on the tip of his tongue, and it rolled just as smoothly as he hoped. A name that was beautiful and strong, very much like its owner, “Good night, Toru. Have a sweet dream.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Good night.” Oikawa turned around to hide away his face, but the redness on his ears did not escape Ushijima’s attention, nor did the last word, delicately hanging at the end of the sentence, like the sweetest honeydew.

“Wakatoshi.”

Waking up to the delicious smell of freshly baked bread may significantly lift your mood, as Oikawa discovered. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes, “I could use this as my alarm clock all day every day.”

Judging by the source of the sound, Ushijima was still in the kitchen. Oikawa licked his lips.

“Breakfast will be ready in ten.” The man said, “You may use the time to get prepared.”

“Yes, daddy.” The agent lazily replied.

He heard a slight pause. Ushijima sounded perplexed as he responded, “I don’t think we are related that way.”

Oikawa was very amused. He pulled himself up into a standing position, cautiously shifting all the weight onto the good leg. His host had asked if he wanted to get a pair of crutches, but Oikawa didn’t think that was necessary. He was, after all, lamentably experienced in being injured, and by this time had acquired the basic skill of measuring the severeness of his wound.

The gun shot had hurt like hell, but since the bullet had spared his bone, he preferred to keep himself on his own feet as much as he could.

There was danger in relying on anything. He learnt that lesson the hard way, and this was not a good point to forget about that.

When he came out of the bathroom door, Oikawa was pleasantly surprised by the variety on the table. There was indeed a fresh loaf of milk break laying in the centre, and accompanying it was a serve of egg benedict, decorated with baby spinach leaves. A small bowl of yogurt sat next to the plate, topped with strawberries cut in halves and drizzled in honey. His cup of coffee was awaiting on the side. He didn’t need to taste it to know that Ushijima had not neglected to add the amount of cream and sugar he had been requiring since the first day.

“Oho, what has entailed this royal treatment, if I may ask?” He questioned as he graciously sat himself back down on the couch (well, as gracious as a man with an injured leg could manage), “Have you finally decided to court me properly?”

Ushijima blushed an adorable shade of pink.

“This is hardly royal.” And that had to be where he put his emphasis on.

“Do you know that a little friend of mine calls me the Grand King?” Oikawa reached for the knife and fork. It would be a pity to let such nice food go cold. The gourmet inside him would not allow that.

“No, I don’t think so.” Ushijima arched an eyebrow, “You don’t seem like a Grand King to me. More like a Pampered Prince.”

Oikawa gaped.

“The audacity! Insulting the royal is a crime of treason, I’ll let you know!”

“Very,” Ushijima only smiled at that, his heart melting away as he watched all the little expressions on the lively, enrapt face of his beloved agent, “Very pampered.”

Oikawa actually looked a little bit embarrassed.

The hearty breakfast was enjoyed in a merry mood, and it carried on even after the meal was finished. Oikawa kept talking about the “little ones” at his work, which at first brought some confusion, and it wasn’t until Ushijima asked if there were really kids working in their organisation that the agent laughed and explained that no, he was just referring to his juniors.

“Technically speaking,” He explained, “Not all of them are my juniors. I mean, they are junior to me, but since some of them are in a different section, I have no authority over them.”

“You sound regretful.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, “Observant, aren’t we?”

“I would feel rather regretful, too, if a distinctive agent was not working on my team.” Ushijima continued, trying to sympathise with the agent. He did not understand why Oikawa was suddenly wearing a funny expression.

“Yeah, guess we should be glad that you are not an agent then.” Finally he said, looking away, “You’d never stop nagging me to join your team.”

“But if I were to be an agent now, I would be a junior to you. So it makes more sense that I join yours.” Come to think of it, this didn’t sound like a bad plan. Perhaps if he put in some work, there was a possibility to manifest the idea into reality. He was knowledgeable in the field of machineries, which might be of some use to whatever organisation Oikawa worked for. If he could apply for a position there, he would truly be working alongside Oikawa, and there would be no more excuses to bar him from dating the agent.

Oikawa suddenly shot him a fierce glare. It was uncanny how he appeared to be able to tell exactly what Ushijima was thinking.

“Stop.” He said, “Don’t think about that.”

“Why?” Ushijima realised his mistake only a second too late, “Was it how your last –”

The room went very still. It was as if time was frozen on the spot, and for a while neither of them spoke, or moved, or even drew a breath.

When Oikawa opened his mouth, his words were sharp like daggers.

“My last what?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Ushijima blinked. At least, he thought, not like this. He had planned to ease the topic into the conversation, one way or another, at a suitable time. He didn’t mean to drop the bomb out of nowhere. The last thing he wanted was to remind Oikawa of his loss.

Curse his faltering tongue.

Oikawa, however, was not going to let him off the hook that easily this time.

“What were you trying to say?” He asked again, in a tone as hard as steel.

Seeing no way out, Ushijima took a deep breath and braced himself.

“Iwaizumi told me something yesterday. He said your last relationship did not end well, but he wouldn’t specify. He said I must ask you myself.” He confessed, “But I don’t think you would like to talk about that. I am willing to listen, though, whenever you are ready.”

A second ticked by, followed by another. Oikawa looked at him impassively.

“Really, Ushi-chan?” His voice dripped like melted sugar, but every drop was poisonous, “Do you really want to know that?”

“Of course.” Ushijima was nothing but sincere, “I want to know everything about you.”

This was met with merciless silence, but all he could think about was how he wished to wipe the bitter despair off of Oikawa’s lovely face.

“You will regret it.” Finally, the agent replied, “Certain things are meant to be left unsaid.”

Ushijima did not understand what he meant until two days later, when they sat down at the table to enjoy a cup of coffee in the afternoon. It was his time for a break, and Ushijima was very used to spending all his free hours with the agent by now.

That was when out of the blue, Oikawa made the comment.

“He liked his coffee black.” He said, “Much like you do.”

At first Ushijima was clueless of who the agent might be referring to. He looked at him, confused, awaiting an explanation that never came. So he gave it a thought, and it did not take long for him to trace it back to their exchange on the other day.

He was not sure how to reply to that. Oikawa, though, seemed to only be in need of someone who’d listen, so he carried on.

“Believe or not, there are many similarities.” He gazed softly into the distance, lips pulled into an ambiguous smile, “Your cooking reminds me of his. And neither of you let me indulge in my sweets.”

“The amount of sugar you desire is bad for your health.” Ushijima explained, “Your recovery requires a balanced diet.”

Oikawa giggled.

“Have I mentioned that you sound like him, too?”

Ushijima kept his mouth shut for the rest of their conversation, as the agent talked and talked about his mysterious lover. It turned out that the man was not a civilian as he was originally led to believe, instead, he was an agent too, very much like Oikawa himself. They met when they were both in the training academies.

“He was the golden child. Good at just about everything. It used to piss me off so much, hell, even thinking about it now gets me worked up. If he was so good, tell me, why did he let it happen?”

They were in the same organisation, working under different sections. Oikawa left the details out.

“He was the most insufferable person I’ve ever known. Every single time we met he’d ask me to join him on his team. Do you know how condescending that was, Ushi-chan? Did he think my Iwa-chan isn’t good enough? How dared he imply that my men are not as good as his?”

He was wondering if Toru was talking about a lover or a foe at this point, or maybe those were the two sides of the same coin.

“He got what he wished for, Ushi-chan.” Shadows lingered behind those brown eyes as the agent murmured, “And see where that had landed us. He wouldn’t leave me to perish, so he had to take my place.”

By the time this monologue was concluded, another presence had entered the apartment. A phantom, the phantom of Oikawa Toru’s ex-lover. It was a peculiar sensation to have a haunting ghost breathing down your neck, Ushijima thought, and it was very much unlike him to even fancy about such a thing, which he believed had no reason to exist.

“But we are the same.” It whispered to him, “We are both phantoms.”

Another week went by and Oikawa was already walking around independently without much difficulties, the rate of his healing surprised even the agent himself. Without any stiches, he said, he was expecting about ten more days to pass before making such recovery.

“If we could,” When they watched TV together on the couch, he said to Ushijima, “I’d very much like to roam around the city with you, Ushi-chan. Create some memories, you know.”

Ushijima leaned in to kiss him.

It started on the same day they had the talk. On that night before they retired to their respective beds, the agent asked him to come over and pulled him in for a kiss. It was light and tender, a kiss for a lover, or a phantom. There was no telling them apart, and Ushijima would never have it in him to resist a kiss from Toru, no matter how heartbreaking it tasted.

They ended up sharing a bed that night, indulging in each other’s warmth. Somehow it felt lonelier than the other nights, Ushijima contemplated as he lied awake, mooning over the agent lying next to him. He wondered if he felt lonely too, or was he cruel enough to feel content sleeping by the side of a phantom.

They didn’t need more memories, for he already had enough of that for the remainder of his life. The first night in the alleyway was enough. A while with Oikawa in his life, no matter how short the while might be, was enough.

_In his dreams, Toru asked him if he was a cactus. Ushijima told him that he was a human. Toru laughed but did not care to explain himself. Upon awaking he finally understood the meaning of it – and that was true, he was, indeed, a cactus._

_He could survive on the rarity of Oikawa Toru’s love._

Ushijima knew that the agent was to make his departure when they rolled under his quilt, naked bodies pressing against each other. The kisses were hungrier than usual and so were the touches, for every inch of their skin craved like their lips craved. Sweat traced the fine definition of muscles as lust liquefied, painting everything in a tint of rose.

A more breathtaking scene would be impossible to find, he thought, as he took in the way Oikawa spread open underneath him, watery lips apart, bright eyes seeking his assurance. He was wet and eager as Ushijima sank into him, sighing and moaning with his name on the tip of his tongue like a prayer.

“Wakatoshi. Please.”

Oikawa was the greatest of all con-artists, and Ushijima could at least be a happy phantom.

He had no memories of doing this with another person, yet it did not feel like a first time. Being intimate with Oikawa Toru felt too natural – he knew exactly where to kiss and caress, and which angle could send him arching up in bliss. It was as arousing as it was terrifying, how he felt so at home inside the other man’s body. For a moment he entertained the idea that ghosts did exist and he was possessed by one, except that never in his life had he felt more like himself.

_Maybe he was not a cactus. Maybe it was not enough, after all._

“Toru,” In the mist of the heat he whispered in his lover’s ear, “Will you forget him?”

“Never.”

“Good. Then you will never forget me, either.”

Days before, in his little garden of a balcony, Oikawa talked about how _he_ shared the same interest in botany. All of a sudden, he stared straight into Ushijima’s eyes, as if he was frustrated by something.

“Why are you not jealous?”

Ushijima had no answer to that. “Do you wish me to be?” He asked.

“Yes, so that I’d know that you care.”

What an Oikawa thing to do, a voice jeered, sounding suspiciously like Iwaizumi Hajime, to ask for a love that he himself would not reciprocate. But knowing you, Ushijima, you would offer whatever he asks for with your both hands without any hesitation, wouldn’t you?

“I do, Toru.” Tentatively, he circled his arms around Oikawa’s waist, “I do.”

Ushijima traced his fingers down the agent’s spine. Oikawa was fast asleep next to him, exhausted after their love making. It went on into the small hours of the morning, for it was so good and so beautiful, and both knew without saying that there would not be a next time.

He had always believed that he was not capable of jealousy. It seemed, though, that he was wrong about that, too.

Oikawa would not forget his lover, so he would not forget about him. That was what he told himself.

Except he also knew that it was not true. The agent would find many others who reminded him of the phantom. He would make every one of them feel special for a while, and when he walked out, he’d leave all those shattered hearts behind. His heart would be but one of those, left here to be forgotten, never to be glorified by his love again.

He clutched at his chest, finally allowing the sensation of pain to rage over him, burning like a wildfire, sparing not a single corner of his soul.

And he welcomed it, just like he welcomed everything that Oikawa Toru had given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too cheesy? ;)
> 
> (If it is, I made a meme as my apology. You may check it out here: https://i.postimg.cc/RFPxSTCP/50t68n.jpg)


	5. 5

Ushijima Wakatoshi woke up to an absence of Oikawa Toru in his apartment and an atrocious headache. He managed to get out of his bed and aimlessly walked around the small apartment, only to confirm that the agent was truly gone, the sole trace of his staying being the dirty laundry stuffed haphazardly inside the washing machine.

He came back to his bedroom afterwards, already feeling drained after merely minutes out of bed. This was abnormal, as he kept his body in good physical condition, and fatigue was not something that he experienced often.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ushijima attempted to process the situation. First, he was slightly disappointed that there was no way of keeping up to his routine today. He was sweating profusely and simultaneously feeling chilled, which could be an indication of a fever. The thermometer was in the drawer next to his bed. Strange, though, for he had not had a fever for as long as he could remember. As stated before, he made sure to take care of his heath.

Also, he realised that he should be feeling sad. Oikawa had left, and there was scarcely any chance of ever seeing him again. But he felt nothing, no heartaches and no pains. Only emptiness.

This could only mean one thing. He was compartmentalising. Combined with the condition of his body, it warranted certain concerns.

Ushijima lied back down in the bed and took his temperature. When he saw the number on the window, he grabbed his cell phone and dialled a number. The call was picked up after several seconds, and the woman on the other side spoke.

“Good morning, Ushijima-san. What seems to be the matter?”

“Doctor.” When he spoke, he was astounded by the soullessness of his voice, “I think I need your help.”

“We are here.”

Iwaizumi parked the car and waited, but his passenger made no move.

“Oi, Trashykawa!” Impatiently, he reached across to snap his fingers in front of his partner’s eyes, “Wake up!”

“Urgh, where is my milk bread?” Oikawa muttered, grudgingly cracking his eyes open. When his sight landed on the face of the man next to him, his back straightened slightly, “Oh, it’s you. Are we there already?”

He would have felt sorry for his partner if he wasn’t also very inclined to kick his butt, thought Iwaizumi. He did not waste his breath to repeat himself, simply getting out of the car from his side. A moment later the door on Oikawa’s side opened, and the agent stepped out.

“This is the place?” Oikawa questioned as he checked out the seemingly abandoned factory. It was too cliché to be a safehouse in his opinion, and it looked ancient and dusty. Somehow, he had a feeling that he would not like this place very much.

“It is.” Iwaizumi shrugged, “You’ve got to be practical. I’d say it’s quite impressive that Headquarter managed to even set up a safehouse in so little of time.”

“It’s been, what, two weeks?” Oikawa snorted.

“You can’t overlook the fact that the others took years to be completed.” Iwaizumi nudged him with his elbow, “Come on, move your lazy ass already. We have a very busy day ahead.”

“Gentle, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa winked at his partner and moved promptly out of the range of attack, “I am still very fragile.”

And fragile he was, with a leg yet to completely heal, and a heart kept barely together with duct tapes that threatened to fall apart at any given time.

_He did not know what made him go back to the bedroom for one last time. He had no luggage, so there was no need to check._

_Ushijima curled up on his side, still asleep. But the man was also whimpering like a wounded animal. Oikawa was too shocked to react. The idea of Ushijima being weak, vulnerable and whimpering – it was beyond his comprehension._

_Then he heard the mumbled words._

_“Please don’t go...”_

_Oikawa ran out of that place as if he was being chased. As if he were to stay for another second, he would never find the courage to leave ever again._

His gut feeling turned out to quite accurate.

The first stop was, unsurprisingly, the clinic. Oikawa groaned loudly as he stepped through the doors to come face to face with the infamous Smiling Angel.

(“This is why we don’t use alias.” Said Iwaizumi the first time he heard of the nickname, “All of you are terrible at coming up with them. You can’t go around and expect people to respect an agent named Zeta Reticulan. You just can’t.”)

“How are you doing, Oikawa-kun?” The Angel, whose actual name was Sugawara Koshi, asked him with a refreshing smile.

“I wanted to say fine, but then I wouldn’t be here.” Oikawa answered, trying to reduce the amount of sarcasm he added into his reply.

“Oh, in a bad mood, aren’t we?” Sugawara kept smiling sweetly, “We can’t have that! Please come to the table and let me examine your leg, Oikawa-kun, and hopefully that will make you feel better!”

For the next agonising hour, Sugawara poked and pressed at his wound. Although the muscles had pretty much healed, it was still pretty painful when a pressure was exserted upon the area. Oikawa had to bite down his cries of pain, because who would know, a sadistic like the Smiling Angel might have enjoyed them.

Finally, he was cleared, but not before hearing an earful from the pleasant medic.

“Oikawa-kun,” Sugawara said in his disappointed mother tone, “I thought a seasoned agent like you would not have made such silly mistakes that our rookies tend to make, but it seems that I was wrong. You are really, really lucky that you didn’t get an infection, or worse, having the fragments of bullet growing into your tissues. Who taught you to let a gunshot wound heal on its own? They should have taught you better!”

“I know, I know.” Oikawa threw his hands up in defeat, “Please, Suga-chan, have some mercy on me, won’t you? You know this was…special.”

The Angel finally dropped his feigned affability, thanks to the higher powers. Oikawa would rather endure another hour of poking at his wounds than listening to the voice that was the equivalence of artificial sweetener.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.” Sugawara chuckled, “In fact, Oikawa, everyone had heard about that. I can’t say that they were all happy with what you did, though. Come to think of it, some were quite pissed.”

“Are you?”

Sugawara shook his head, “Nope. I just feel very sorry for you, you sorry ass.”

“Hey!”

“Done insulting my partner?” Iwaizumi poked his head inside the room, startling both the agent and the medic, “He’s needed in the conference room next. No chit chat, we have a schedule to keep up to.”

“Schedule.” Oikawa rolled his eyes as he stood up to follow his partner. Sugawara gave him a small wave, which he returned by flipping a bird. He heard the medic chuckle again behind him, and couldn’t help smiling a bit himself.

The briefing session consisted of a video call across the Pacific to the actual Headquarter. Oikawa made sure to put on his best professional look.

“Morning, Irihata-san.” He greeted the director of Seijoh, “I hope none of the kids were giving you any troubles while I wasn’t there!”

Alas, Irihata knew him too well to be bought by his charisma.

“Mr. Oikawa.” Their director was one of those men who’d use such prefix on his agents only for the sake of formality, “To start our conference on a positive note, I would like to inform you that there will not be any repercussions for your actions.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped.

“What?” His eyes widened in shock, “What have I done, if I may ask?”

“Come on.” He heard Iwaizumi muttering under his breath beside him. Yes, he knew at least that, but it was not the point. Oikawa did not avert his gaze, stubbornly demanding for an answer.

“Why, unauthorised contact with a former agent, Mr. Oikawa. I hope that you are aware that this is against the protocol.” Irihata responded calmly.

“Former agent?” His breath quickened, “He is not a former agent, Sir. If you check the records…”

“It will show that Mr. Ushijima Wakatoshi is out of commission due to his medical conditions for an indefinite period of time.” Irihata looked straight into his eyes, “You must understand that your action has put yourself and other personnel in great danger, for there is a possibility that our target can follow your track to find Mr. Ushijima, who is effectively a civilian at this point.”

Oikawa swallowed.

“But considering the nature of the event, we do not believe you had too many choices. Hence there will be no repercussions this time, but consider this a warning issued.”

The look on the agent’s face said that he still had some arguments in him, but Iwaizumi grabbed his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, Oikawa nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Irihata seemed to be satisfied, leaning in and crossing his fingers, “Now we may proceed to the actual agenda, gentlemen.”  
  


Had he mentioned that he had a feeling that he would not like this place?

As if the briefing wasn’t soul crushing enough, Oikawa found himself stepping out of the conference room only to be met with the disagreeable faces of Tendo Satori and Eita Semi.

He turned to Iwaizumi, “Why are they here?”

“We need backups.” Iwaizumi replied indifferently.

“Them?” Oikawa gestured, “What had happened to Seijoh? Where are our boys? Why do they have to send the birds here? Not even the cute little crows, mind you, it has to be these abhorrent eagles!”

“Maybe it is because I have requested it.”

Up stepped Eita Semi, active Number Three of Shiratorizawa. Maybe he’d been promoted to Number Two now, Oikawa thought bitterly, seeing that Ushiwaka was “out of commission for an indefinite period of time”.

“You did? How interesting.” His tone suggested the exact opposite, “And here I thought you birdies didn’t like me very much.”

“Oh no, we don’t.” Semi stepped closer, his lips twisted evilly. Without any warning, he lunged forward and landed a punch square on Oikawa’s jaw.

The following seconds were chaotic. Oikawa yelled in pain as he fell back, knocking into Iwaizumi, who reacted by steading him and inserting himself between his partner and the now openly hostile silver-haired agent. Tendo made a half-hearted gesture to restrain his friend from making further attacks, but the expression on his face indicated that he did not feel sorry at all for that punch.

“Ouch!” Oikawa covered the side of his face, feeling the sting on the contact point, “What was that for?”

“How dare you?” Eita Semi was visibly boiling with anger, “Fuck you, Oikawa Toru. You are the most selfish scum I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

“Watch it.” Iwaizumi glared, blocking his partner with his body. Oikawa might not be a saint, but he wasn’t about to let just any one talk to his friend that way.

Semi ignored him. “Did you fucking track him down, Oikawa? What are you trying to do?”

“I did not!” Oikawa screamed back, “I ran into him, okay? And surprise surprise, I didn’t want to let him go. Is that so fucking wrong?”

“Of course it’s fucking wrong! There is a reason why it’s against the prot-”

“Screw protocol.” Oikawa snapped, “I’m so sick of it.”

Both agents went quiet after that, trying to gather themselves as the tension in the corridor dispersed. Thankfully there were few people in the newly established safehouse, otherwise they were sure to cause a scene, and such unprofessionalism would have looked terrible on high-ranking agents like them.

“Oh, finished greeting each other, I see?” Tendo cocked his head to the side, “Let’s get some food, what do you say? It’s about lunch time.”

There wasn’t enough time to set up a canteen, but Headquarter had been thoughtful enough to get them take-outs so that the agents wouldn’t have to go around on empty stomachs. Sitting in the only breakroom that had been fully furnished, the four agents had their meals in brooding silence. It was very hard to ignore the elephant that was in there with them.

Fortunately (Or unfortunately, depending on your perspective) among them was Tendo Satori, an expert at bursting awkward bubbles.

“So, Oikawa-kun.” He spoke in his sing-song tone, though in Oikawa’s opinion, he had always sounded very much like an annoying seagull that would harass you on the beaches, “How is Wakatoshi doing?”

“He is…” Oikawa cautiously chose his words. Tendo may not seem to be as aggressive as Semi, but he was by no means innocuous. If harming was his intention, and they both knew that it was, he could turn the most innocent thing into his weapon. “He is alright, I guess. Boring retirement life seems to suit him.”

“You should just leave him be, then, don’t you think?” The red-head smirked like he was waiting for the exact answer. This irritated Oikawa to no end, so he gave him a murderous glare.

“Last time I checked, Wakatoshi was my boyfriend, not yours. So don’t come sticking your nose into our business, birdie.”

Tendo’s lips curled up. “Last time I checked, Oikawa-kun, being sexual partners didn’t qualify him as your boyfriend.”

Right, that.

The whole Headquarter knew about them, because juicy gossips involving two top-ranking agents were bound to get some attention. By the time Oikawa had discovered the extent of the rumour, it was already too late to do any damage control. Most assumed that Ushijima and him were in an established relationship, which they were not. They were much more complicated than that.

Executive head agents of their respective sections and occasional temporary partners, long-term acquaintances with too many old one-sided grudges and mutual attraction, topped with convenient sex and romantic fantasies never to be realised.

That was about the full picture of what they were.

Not boyfriends. Not lovers. No relationships. No strings attached. Convenient. Easily accessible. Minimal risks.

Lies, all of them. At the end of the day, he wasn’t fooling anyone. They lived in a house made of glass, and all those who had eyes could see what was going on in there. It was only Oikawa who kept pretending that it was not what it looked, that no one understood the true nature of it except for himself.

But then there was also Ushijima, who had always played along like he honestly believed Oikawa’s story.

“Toru.” They were running through the endless tunnels, enemies on their heels, cuts and bruises on their limbs. He heard Ushijima calling out to him, his voice still so annoyingly steady even after all the actions.

“What?” Couldn’t say the same about his own, though.

“If we make out of this alive, will you consider the possibility of a relationship?”

At that time, he wasn’t aware of how uncharacteristic the question was. Just like at that time, he wasn’t aware of the cul-de-sac they were running into, and how Ushijima already knew that, how he had made all the plans ahead like he always did, and how the plan involved only Oikawa getting out of the place. He wasn’t aware of anything as he kept running, holding onto the blind hope that there would be a way out, because there was always a way out, until there was not.

What was his answer then?

_(Not that it mattered now. Not that it would ever matter again.)_

The Shiratorizawa duo had made it quite clear that neither they nor their entire team (excluding Ushijima himself, ironically) had any intentions of forgiving Oikawa Toru, which was, to be honest, the least concern of the Seijoh captain.

Surprisingly, it was Iwaizumi who made an objection.

“I don’t understand why are you blaming him for something the fucking crooks did.” He looked even more austere than usual, “Oikawa was not the one who was responsible for Agent Ushijima’s current condition.”

“He wasn’t?” Semi snarled, “He was stupid enough to get himself captured first, and Wakatoshi went in against our advice to get him out. He walked straight into a trap and still managed to save Oikawa’s pretty ass before getting in trouble himself, so yeah, I’d say there is some responsibility involved.”

Iwaizumi breathed.

“They were on a mission.” His voice was firm, and Oikawa could tell that his partner was trying very hard to suppress his anger, “Anything could happen on a bloody mission. Do you seriously think Oikawa got captured because he was stupid?”

“Uh-uh, I wouldn’t say that Oikawa-kun made a mistake there.” Tendo replied before Semi did, “You see, no one, none of us had blamed it on him back then. We wouldn’t. All agents understand what it’s like out there. But now? It’s a different story.”

“Don’t you think you have done enough, Oikawa?” Semi continued, sounding more tired than enraged now, “You won’t even let him retire in peace.”

“You don’t know –” Iwaizumi only paused when Oikawa shook his head at him. The agent was silent during the entire exchange. Semi’s words, however, seemed to finally snap him out of the trance. He looked at the three persons in front of him, darting his eyes from one to another. 

His brain was screaming like a maniac. “What do you mean, retire?” He wanted to say, “He’s not retiring. He’s coming back as soon as he recovers, as soon as they find a way to mend him. He will come back for me.”

But he said none of that.

“I offer you my apology, if that is what you are seeking.” In the most nonchalant tone, the Number One of Seijoh turned to Tendo and Semi, “For now, let’s put that aside and focus on the upcoming mission. We need to have a detailed plan before we are due to go out there.”

He proceeded to ignore the look Iwaizumi gave him, as well as the stunned faces of the Shiratorizawa agents.

He also ignored how much of Ushijima he had managed to hear in himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers regarding this chapter, so maybe you'd like to read this after reading the story itself. 
> 
> So I was planning to update this after I finished writing the next chapter, but I couldn't sit on it any more and here it is. I also made some tiny adjustments to chapter three. 
> 
> This is mainly looking at things from Oikawa's side, oh boy oh boy, I enjoy how messed up this always gets...
> 
> Some of you might have been thinking, wait, why does Ushi have no friends? What about our beloved Shiratorizawa gang? Well, here they are! Of course Wakatoshi has his fair share of loving friends, he deserves all good things ;)


End file.
